I waded out, seeking thus to get far enough from shore to baffle their search, when suddenly a quick spark of light winked from the blackness in front of me.

Surely it could be nothing less than a signal, the swift stroke of flint on steel,--no doubt in the faint hope it would prove a beacon to me in my need.
Desperate as the chance was, it was still a chance, and to my mind the only one.

I glanced behind; a dim figure or two dotted the white sand, and my heart lifted a silent prayer to God for guidance.

A second later I was beyond my depth, breasting the unknown waters, swimming steadily toward the place where that mysterious spark had glimmered.
Once again it flashed, the barest glimpse of light through the intense gloom; and I pressed on with new vigor, certain now it was a real beacon.

But I was so weakened by wounds and spent from exertion, and such desperate work is swimming fully clad, that my progress proved slow; and twice I was compelled to pause, paddling slowly on my back, in the buffeting of the waves, in order to gain strength to renew the struggle.